Blue Root

CHAPTER EIGHT

“Actually, I invented the Blue Root and a bunch of other thtuff.” Ordal Laverock grinned at the drop-dead gorgeous blonde woman next to him at the bar. The Vine was the hottest nightclub in Florida–or at least the closest club to his island.

His sights were on celebrating tonight. This was the first week that distributors called BlueCentric Laboratories begging for more Blue Roots rather than his sales team begging distributors to carry them. His automated factories hadn’t been set at full speed, but they were humming along nicely.

This was also the first week that someone had posted a hacked Blue Root program for everyone to steal. If that wasn’t ultimate success of a product, what was? People were starting to want the Blue Root so badly, they were willing to break copyright laws to achieve a bigger, better orgasm.

“You expect me to believe that pick-up line?” the blonde wrinkled her face.

“Well, yeth.”

“Is that lisp supposed to make you sound cute or something?”

“Cute? I’m a brilliant inventor.”

“Is that your best pick-up line?” Why did she still look disgusted?

“It’s not a pick-up line! It’s the truth!”

“Nothing would work for you. You need lots of therapy. Thanks for the drink, but no thanks.”

“But, I really did invent it. I thwear.” His words trailed off as she walked away.

Amid the wall-to-wall dancing revelers, Ordal’s Blue Root had captured a few women’s attention. But most of them wouldn’t talk to him for some reason. He’d brushed his teeth before leaving home. He’d even combed his hair and put on his highest platform shoes, but still the ladies looked through him.

He sniffed his armpit, hoping that was the reason he repelled women. Hmmm… He wasn’t too ripe yet. According to his controller, several gals were wearing Blue Roots. There had to be one who’d believe him.

Doggone it. Tonight was supposed to be about celebrating success. The Blue Root should make up for all his failures. Okay, well, maybe nothing could make up for the SurvivalSaver. The whole point of the compass being edible was that if a person were lost, he could use the compass to navigate and if he got hungry, he could eat it. Of course, then he wouldn’t be able to find his way anymore. But who uses compasses anymore anyway? Disaster. Complete disaster.

And the Wallet Thermometer. For some reason, that darn thing always read body temperature even when it was snowing outside. Ordal grimaced as he ordered a Primal Scream from the green-haired, overly pierced man behind the bar.

There had to be a woman in that establishment who’d be interested in a Blue Root experience. He’d slaved for months working with Bluetooth transmitters and receivers, motors, circuitry, sticky polymers and numerous other components until he’d finally put together the right combination. From there, he’d production-engineered it so he could make tons of them. Through that process, he’d developed Skintite Technology and got the idea for all the accessories and programming.

“Did you want a shot of garlic in that?” the bartender asked as he slid the jug toward Ordal, jarring from waxing how wonderful his invention was.

“I’ll take two, actually. And a clove.”

The fellow with the green hair raised his eyebrows, but did as he was told, adding the required oil and clove of garlic before landing a straw in the drink. “Suit yourself, dude.”

Grooving his head to the techno music, Ordal looked across the sea of dancing people. Purple hair, dangerous piercings, the wild life overtook his sight. Each of the Vine’s various rooms had something different to offer. When the vibrant colors and loud music got too much, he could head to the lounge or the ocean or the everyday. Tonight, it didn’t matter. Wherever there was a woman willing to celebrate with him, he’d go.

Taking a slurp of his Primal Scream, the only drink offered in a jug–and with garlic–Ordal scrutinized each woman within his range of sight, sometimes tapping his controller, hoping it’d help point out the right lovely lady.

Maybe tonight he’d have to experiment and hook up with a man. No. The male orgasm just wasn’t as pretty as the female. Women show their feelings more than men, making the Blue Root respond better. Tonight was a night for fireworks, not just sexual gratification. Otherwise, it would all feel good no matter who was on the on the other end of his Blue Root.

No luck in this room. Ordal did his best to shimmy as he made his way through the crowd to the lounge where the music was kept at a lower volume, allowing for conversation. And if any woman happened to be wearing a Blue Root, perhaps it’d be easier to impress her if he could talk without having to yell. Somewhere in that building, there had to be a lady who would believe that he invented the Blue Root and wanted to experiment with him.

He took another swig of Primal Scream, enjoying the intensity of the garlic burning his tongue. Oh yeah. Garlic was the food of gods. He basked in it during his bi-monthly bathing sessions. There was nothing better than garlic. Somewhere there had to be a woman who liked garlic as much as he did.

Once in the lounge, he surveyed the room for a place to sit. In the far corner, a trio of women vacated their seats and Ordal wasted no time, traversing the space, stepping on a few toes in the process.

The nerve of these people. They really should stay out of his way. Couldn’t they see he was trying to get somewhere? How dare they not make room for him?

After sitting in the corner, quaffing his Primal Scream for a solid half hour, he finally saw a lady worthy of his attention. She was drinking from her glass jug without using a straw. There weren’t any cloves in it, but beggars couldn’t be choosers. Tapping his controller, he found her code, all the while hoping she was wearing a Blue Root.

Success. She was startled as Ordal sent a jolt to her controller. Scanning the crowd, her gaze rested on him. He crooked his finger, beckoning her over. She drifted through the maze of chairs and tables, nearly falling over twice. Luckily her drink was in a jug or several patrons would’ve been wearing it.

“S-so, you’ve got on a Blue R-Root?” She squinted then blinked as she sat down in the empty chair next to him.

Ordal kept his smile constant. Perhaps he’d have some luck tonight after all. “Hell, I invented it.”

“Oh really? Th–that’s nice. Good for you. I’m D-DeeDee.”

“Ordal Laverock, but pleathe call me Orrick.”

“That’s a f-funny name. It’s kind of like Eric, but not. You talk funny, too.” She brought her jug to her lips and tossed her head back, guzzling clumsily.

Good. She was already inebriated. That’d make her easier to impress with his Blue Root skills. She had to be the only woman in the room who at least believed he invented the darn thing. “Well, DeDeeDee, do you come here often?”

“No. My name’s just DeeDee.”

“Dee Dee?” Ordal repeated, wondering why she’d changed her name mid-conversation.

“Yeah, Dee twice. And I’ve never been here before. My best friend t-told me I need to stop being so picky and get myself laid. She s-said to come here and get a Primal Scream.”

“Really?” Ordal pretended to be surprised. DeeDee was making this whole Blue Root fireworks thing way too easy. He was just a cross-up away.

“Uh-huh. She said I’d be so fucked up by the t-time I finished it that I wouldn’t care what guy I Blue Root f-fucked and I’d feel so much better. So here I am. Ready for my Blue Root orgasms and so far, she was right, but I haven’t found a guy I wanna Blue Root fuck, though.”

“Hmmm. It’s really simple, though. Anyone can do it.” Close. Real close. “And since I invented it, I really am a master of Blue Root stimulation.”

She hiccupped as she looked at her jug. “This stuff tastes like garlic more than anything. I don’t get it. See, I haven’t had sex in forever and I r-really want a man who knows how to use a Blue Root ’cause I wanna go crazy with him and then never see him again just so I can see what that’s like.” She smiled, then coughed, practically spilling out of her chair before catching herself and straightening.

Mentally, Ordal did cartwheels around the room plus a happy dance. Tonight was a night of celebration. A night of success. A night to share his stunning prowess with a divine darling. Oh yes!

“Dee Dee. I’m the right man. Your man. Tonight.” He began rolling his sleeve up out of the way. It was time to set his controller to meld with hers and show her the time of her life. He grinned from ear to ear as he licked his lips in anticipation.

She smiled at him. Then giggled. Then chuckled. Uproarious snorting laughter burst forth from deep within her throat. “Hell no. Not you. I don’t f-fuck weirdos.” She began to whoop and gasp for breath as she fell backwards in her chair clasping her stomach.

That was it. Ordal pushed his way out of there. If he couldn’t find a way to get laid, he’d go home and find a way to get more money. No one would make a fool of Ordal Laverock. At least not when he had the power to make lots more money than anyone in the world. He’d be the richest man on the planet even if it killed him. Surely, then women would throw themselves at him.

Yeah. So there!

>>><<<

Brad sighed as he slouched over his table.

Stay or go? Did it really matter?

Email her? She probably wouldn’t give him the time of day. Why did he have to cross up with her? It was a stupid accident. He didn’t mean it. Maybe she had some kind of emergency at home or with one of her friends. Yeah. That’s what happened.

“What the hell was that all about?” Danny shook his head as he stepped over to Brad’s table. “Goddamn. It was like I got hit by a flying sack of hungry anteaters.”

“I think that was the woman I was supposed to be meeting here.”

“And you freaked her out that fast? What the hell? Did you tell her ya only had a two-inch dick or something? Shit. I should’ve just let her hit the ground.” Danny pulled up a seat across from Brad.

Leave it to Danny to make a bad situation worse. “No. She’s nice. She sold me a suit a couple days ago. I dunno why she won’t talk to me again.” Brad felt his eyebrows contract together. He was a liar. “Well, I did accidentally cross up with her Blue Root while I was there.”

“Well, you must’ve sucked, then. Or maybe you didn’t suck and she wanted you to suck because I don’t think I’ve ever seen a woman run away so crazy like that.” Danny motioned toward the door. “So, wait a minute. Then you didn’t have to tell her you have a two-inch dick, she found out for herself!” He turned to Brad, mouth wide open, laughing.

“Shut up! No. It wasn’t like that. Never mind her. What are you doing here?”

Danny shook his head. “What’s worse than telling a chick your dick is small? Her knowing it’s true! Sounds like you’re gonna be hollering ‘Oh, yes, Blue Root, baby’ every time you blow your wad from now on.”

If he hadn’t been Brad’s best friend since kindergarten, there definitely would have been at least one punch flying. Danny pointed at a very frustrated Brad and continued. “Looks like you need to drown your lack of decent pussy in a serious infusion. Let me grab a server and hook you up before you rattle yourself off your chair.”

“No. I just want to go home now.” Brad wished he could wipe the sarcasm clean off Danny’s face.

“Oh no you don’t. You’re not going home now. I was just gonna grab a Purple Leaf Balloofa then go and fuck around with my Blue Root ’cause I got a new program for it, but you really look miffed, so I ain’t goin’ nowhere until you either drink me under the table or you tell me what the hell is up. And don’t give me that shit about you wanna take care of it yourself because I still owe you one from when Aurora kicked me to the curb.”

Brad shifted on his seat. “Danny, that was five years ago. By now, trust me, you don’t owe me anything. And besides, there’s nothing going on anyway. The chick just stood me up. She walked out on me. End of story. But if you really want to hook me up with a drink, I could use a Mighty Blue Hippo.”

Danny got up and looked around. “What the hell happened to all the waitresses here? Damn, this place really went downhill once Aurora left. Do you see Marcy anymore?”

“She’s been hiding behind the bar since you walked in. Is there a single waitress in this place that you haven’t hit on?”

“Wait, who’s that? Is she a new girl?” Danny headed toward the bar.

Brad sat there amid the crowd and sulked until a smile crept to his face. After all, it had also been about five years since the last time he’d been stood up and run out on. What a strange night that had been. Brad chuckled in spite of himself.

He’d started off on the wrong foot by being late because he had some last minute circuit details that needed ironing out. He’d emailed to let Angela know that he would be somewhat delayed. But by the time he’d made it to the restaurant, she was livid. Apparently, fifteen minutes was more than Angela had ever waited for a man.

Before storming out, she’d left him with a little bit of advice. “Never show up late for a first date. It leaves a bad impression. And more importantly, never smell like perfume and have lipstick on your collar.”

They’d had such a connection during the time they’d spent emailing and chatting. She’d been someone he’d really wanted to know a whole lot better. Obviously, she’d deceived him.

Angela was right about being late, but perfume and lipstick? As soon as he got home, Brad looked in a mirror and discovered that what Angela had thought was lipstick on his collar was a stain from the rose tea he’d spilled during lunch. Apparently, that infusion had scented as well as stained him. Hell, it might as well have branded him. Coincidental disaster had struck.

Danny clunked two pitchers down in front of Brad, drawing him straight out of his reverie. “The new girl’s name is Maya and she says she loves to use her Blue Root. I told her I could hook her up and she said she might email me. What do you think?” Danny sat down as he pointed out a skinny dark-haired girl with too much make-up staining her eyes and cheeks.

“I think any girl who might email you is worth a try. Just don’t fuck it up this time.” Brad agreed that the girl wasn’t half bad, but she was like a twig with hair. The only curves she had were her black, drawn-on eyebrows.

“Hey, if I can just get her together with my Blue Root, she won’t ever wanna stop partying with me. You know these things work through a network, don’t you? I’ll keep her going all night and all day until she thinks she’s had enough and then I’ll do it all over again. You know how chicks are once I get in their pants.” Danny pulled cups out of his pant-leg pockets and set them on the table.

Brad grabbed the blue pitcher and began pouring his tea. “Yeah, they run like hell from your tiny penis.”

“Oh, I see how it is. And even so, it’s not the size of the wave, it’s the motion of the ocean.”

“Yeah, but how many ships have you actually managed to sail?”

Brad laughed as his best friend’s mouth moved without words coming out. For once, Danny was absolutely stumped.

He poured himself a cup of tea and muttered, “Fuck you” before taking a drink. “You’re just pissed because your cruise ship already departed. Who was that chick anyway? She looked like that cheerleader nerd from high school.”

“She sold me a suit at Prixus the other day. That’s all.” It took a moment for Danny’s words to sink all the way into Brad’s thick skull. “Wait, you mean Jeuley something-or-other? She wasn’t a cheerleader. She was on the drill team.”

Oh shit. No wonder the woman had looked so familiar.

“Yeah, didn’t she hang out with that girl, Rachel?” Danny laughed and nodded. “Rachel Rodgers with the fiery red hair. Oh hell yeah. She was incredible. She and I hooked up under the bleachers every Tuesday for like three weeks. I rocked her world as hard as she rocked mine.”

“But once she found out your FMC 302 muscle car actually belonged to me, she dumped you like a load of shit in a pot of seeds.”

“Hey! At least I got in there. You don’t even know what you missed. And you hardly ever drove the car anyway.” Danny chugged his tea and poured some more.

“Sure you got in there, but so what? You never would’ve thought about her again if Jeuley hadn’t run into you.” Brad leaned back in his chair.

Danny paused for a moment and set down his cup, his face alight with excitement. “Wait. You were supposed to hook up with her, right? Can you get Raych’s email from Jeuley for me? Come on, man. Hook me up.”

“No…no. I refuse to even mention your name to her. Hell, she probably doesn’t even remember who we are anyway. She didn’t say anything when she sold me the suit.” Brad’s mind reeled. He rewound every encounter with her in his head, hoping he hadn’t said anything stupid. Although, what could be worse than crossing up into someone’s sexual adventure? That was far crazier than anything he’d ever done before. Hell, maybe even worse than Danny had ever done. Nah, maybe not. This was Danny. Crazy was practically his middle name.

That girl in high school, Jeuley Crissin. He remembered wanting to be her lab partner because she was the only person other than himself who geeked on differential equations. When did she get so damn sexy? She’d looked nice before, but now…his cock twitched at the mere thought of her.

Jeuley was the only girl on the drill team who stumbled and tripped her way through the routines at every sporting event. The rumor was that her mom had paid the principal to get her on the team even though the girl had absolutely no rhythm.

Now, Brad was having trouble getting her and that purple and gold mini-skirt out of his head. Dammit. And she ran away from him like he was–well, dammit again–some kind of pervert. Or maybe she recognized him from high school. Suddenly Brad wasn’t sure what was worse. He ran a hand through his hair.

Danny poured himself another cup of tea. “Just because she didn’t say anything doesn’t mean she didn’t want to. You should email her. Ask her if she remembers. Hey, find out why the hell she got her panties in a twist and ran outta here like a scalded dog.”

That was the kind of statement that Brad hated. He was used to the bad clichés and puns after all these years, but it never ceased to irk him when Danny made a good point. Especially since it felt like Brad’s handheld was burning a hole in his pocket. “Okay, but help me come up with something good. I don’t wanna look like an idiot.” He pulled out his handheld and set it on the table.

Danny grabbed a napkin then produced a ballpoint pen from one of his pockets. “Remember these? I found this plus fifteen refills at PennyPenny Thrift last week. It kicks ass. What do we wanna write?”

The men dove into writing the ultimate inquiry about her welfare coupled with an enticing plea for a second chance to meet. Danny worked in a mention of bringing Rachel along as well. But Brad drew the line at actually mentioning that Danny would be there. It was more to get Jeuley to bring Rachel and that Brad would bring someone he’d like her to meet. He made it a point to mention that they’d reminisce about high school and not talk business until they got caught up.

After scribbling out a rough draft on a napkin, Brad used his handheld to scan it and turn it into a coherent email. Both men hoped that Jeuley would reply. Even if only to tell them to take a hike. All Brad wanted was a second chance to talk business and then perhaps accidentally cross up with her Blue Root again, this time for research.

Danny and Brad crossed their fingers as he sent out the email. If she checked her inbox remotely, maybe he’d get a reply tonight. If she chose to reply, of course. Why wouldn’t she? If he remembered correctly, she was always online in high school. He’d watched her check her email several times during class. But was she still the same girl…just all grown up? Good grief. Why did this have to get so complicated? He shouldn’t have asked to meet her in person and thereby eliminated this dilemma before he’d gotten so worked up.

But maybe Danny was on to something with his Blue Root escapades. If someone as socially inept as Danny could get a second Blue Root date out of a woman, Brad shouldn’t have a problem with Jeuley. But this wasn’t just any date. If she was the same girl all grown up, then she was leaps and bounds too smart to buy a line and quasar blast.

He was beside himself wondering what to do. The memories of her in a drill team outfit along with knowing she was a programming genius had his cock swelling to a rise that his Blue Root could only dream of satisfying.